Universal Studios StarWay
Estelle Has Arrived
I’d written to Will at Sportsmobile to see if there was an update on the arrival of my van, my van that has already gone through a series names.
It’s been Alfred, Gabriel, Vanny II, and now Estelle. Estelle may be the name that sticks.
Estelle is the most personal. The other names came from fiction or recycling. Estelle, however, is super close to my heart. She’s the woman I grew up thinking of as my Jewish mom. Not that I need a second mom. My mom is awesome. And honestly, I never called her Estelle. She was always Mrs. Matus. Would still be Mrs. Matus. Will forever and always be Mrs. Matus.
Mrs. Matus was my best friend’s mom when I lived in Denver. I was pre-kindergarten when we met. Her son, Seth, and I were instant friends. We did everything together. The fact that they lived directly across a very not-busy street that we could cross without supervision helped. You could let a four-year-old cross the street alone in the 1970s.
She had two boys, Seth and Jordan. With an eye to the grass being greener, she always wanted a girl. Or so she told me once. My family was moving to California. Dad had gone ahead, looking for a job. Mom was packing up the house. And I didn’t want to move anywhere near the ocean because I believed Jaws would get me.
Shortly before I took my first ride in a big ol’ jet airliner, Mrs. Matus sat me down on their sleek leather sofa. School was out for the summer and the sliding glass door was open. The sun had disappeared as an afternoon thunderstorm rolled through leaving the air charged causing thin strands of dark blond hair escaped from my braids that were tied off with blue yarn ribbons. Soon giant droplets would turn the sidewalks into a Rorschach test with the rise of petrichor like a fog.
She set a little black velvet bag in my hand. To my eight-year-old eyes it was very fancy.
“Open it,” she prompted.
I fumbled the bag open and pulled out a broach. It was a gold ship with mighty sails that looked like they’d caught a gust on the high seas, flags cracking atop the masts.
I looked up at her. “It’s for you. I don’t have a daughter to give it to.”
She took the ship from me, pinned it to my bright blue and purple flowered tank top, and kissed me on the forehead. I threw my arms around her neck in a strangle-hold hug. She kissed me again and sent me out to play in the rain.
Will called back while I was driving to the grocery store. My beautiful Dolomite Brown 4x4 Sprinter Hightop is at the Mercedes Dealership in Fresno! I get to go meet Estelle and finalize the build next month.
I spent the next forty minutes wandering though Pavilions with my first eggnog latte of the season buying things I didn’t need like a snowflake tablecloth for camping next month crying because I was so happy.
It was a very good day.
UPDATE: Her name’s not Estelle. Might be her middle name. My van’s name is Root Beer Float.
Spinach Dip and Crackers
I woke up early this morning with the intent of actually getting some stuff done and made it out the door by 9:00am. And I did get some stuff done today: bunny food, storage to refill the the vitamins and sort some of the camping gear to the front, birthday present for Liora.
But when I left the house, I was hungry. I was supposed to go and get breakfast. Nothing fancy, just locate a decent meal. Shouldn’t be that difficult, right?
I spent the next hour and a half drive though Los Feliz, Glendale, and La Canada. Not eating.
So I stopped at Sprouts for the bunny food. No breakfast.
I went to storage and sorted the camping gear. Don’t know where the hell the cast iron pans are but it’s only for two nights and I don’t intend to do a lot of cooking, but where are they? Still, no breakfast.
Okay, now it’s noon, I haven’t eaten, and I really fucking hungry. I make the obvious move and go to Pavilions to buy Liora a gift card because I’m going to her birthday party tomorrow and I have no idea what an appropriate gift is for an eleven-year-old because I haven’t seen her in ages and I don’t go to birthday parties and I don’t buy birthday gifts. I can barely manage to send birthday cards which is why I got the Amazon gift card and forgot the birthday card to put it in. I hope an Amazon card is not weird for a kid. If it is, well fuck, I tried. And once again, no breakfast.
Before I went in the store I was going to go to Denny’s but there was no parking because it’s early afternoon on a Saturday and everyone and their mamma is going out to lunch and it’s hot and I don’t want to walk across all that pavement. So I do the healthy thing in a grocery store when you’re really hungry - I bough crap to eat. Spinach dip and crackers. Yup, that’s what I’m eating today. Spinach dip and crackers.
The Moment I Became a Lady Gaga Fan
I’ve liked Lady Gaga’s music for years. She’s a beautiful and interesting creature. Her work ethic is one of those crazy unparalleled missions that exhausts me just thinking about it.
A Star Is Born has been on billboards all over town. Hadn’t really given it much thought one way or the other. I mean, it’s the remake of the remake of the original 1937 movie.
Thursday night Lady Gaga was on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. I wasn’t sleeping, as per usual, and was finally tapping into my CBS All Access subscription.
What happened next was mystifying. This woman’s attitude and openness was not only unexpected as I kind of thought it would be the typical beginning of the Oscar campaign, but poignant and emotional without drama or flair. She stated her mind and paid beautiful homage to one of the bravest women in the country, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. In the process she reduced me to tears, not difficult, I know. But this was a deep wrenching gut twisting realization that women are not alone. I am not alone.
Not to mention she left Colbert speechless. Has that ever happened before?
And yet, as of yesterday, Trump’s nominee to the Supreme Court, Brett Kavanaugh, was confirmed. The world just keeps getting scarier.
The elections are one month away. All voices, those with national platforms and those with tiny blogs, must vote. In the end, that is our loudest voice.
The very least we can do.
photo stolen with respect from ktla 5
I’m afraid. A lot.
Things don’t usually get to me. But lately, I don’t know. There’s just so much going on that feels on beyond.
Control is an illusion. I get that. Somehow the violence in the world is now infiltrating my neighborhood in a way that I never imagined.
My life is one of privilege, make no mistake. I am white. I am educated. I am extremely lucky to have had my parents who raised me to be who I am.
I am also a woman fed up with our misogynistic society and yet still unsure sometimes about how to make it end. I am a victim of workplace harassment and personal relationship assault.
Stand up for yourself. Myself. Stand up. #MeToo #TimesUp #AlwaysKeepFighting
Last Tuesday I can’t get home. My street was closed because a murder, gun violence, happened on my block. My street. The street I chose to live on so many years ago because it felt safe to be a pedestrian.
The unintentionally homeless population is growing and with it a segment, whether due to substance abuse or improperly addressed mental health issues, of predatory and often violent individuals. There are assaults in broad daylight, attacks on men and women, young and old.
Then there are mass shootings. I remember all the way back to Brenda Spencer who hated Mondays and a few years later the McDonald’s massacre. Last year Las Vegas, now a school shooting in Florida.
These kids in Parkland though, they are something else. These young survivors of have more composure and grace and strength than the theoretical grownups running our government that is supposed to protect them. They are articulate. They hail from a screwy place: Florida ain’t no kind of normal. Maybe that’s what it’s going to take cause these kids reaction is anything but normal. These kids kick ass. And they are about to be of voting age. #NeverAgain
So stand with these kids in the one way we all can. If you will be 18 years old by November 6th, register to vote. Do it right now. It is the very least we can do.
Hermosa Beach
I walk so slow.
A couple of weekends ago I drove down to Hermosa Beach. It's part of a new set of goals. The Mission Mission fizzled big time. I'm going to blame the distance all over the state. I'll get back to that once I have my van. For now I'm going to start exploring LA. I've had this deck of cards 50 Adventures on Foot for eight or nine years. Before now, I'd only done one of them. So, the goal is to finish this deck before I get the van.
Anyway, I walk really slow. It took me two hours to walk the Hermosa Beach Pier and The Strand. My point though is that I did it. It wasn't that far and it certainly wasn't that tough of a trek on a completely flat sidewalk along the beach.
I repeat: I did it. Not too long ago, like a week ago, at least one of my two days off was spent in bed. No kidding. I barely left my bed. A month ago it was both days. A whole weekend and I wouldn't leave my bed.
Since March I've been doing a little better. The Universal Studios pass has got me moving more than I have in age. Even the camping couldn't get me to go do anything because I still felt like a slug the whole time I was camping. Going to the park however, you gotta walk just to get there from the car. It's been good for me. When I went with some other folks a couple of weekends ago, they were feeling the walking while I was still feeling good. Motivation!
Another thing I added to the mix two weeks ago was my morning yoga. That makes it sound like more than it is. It's not full blown yoga in crazy poses. Honestly, ain't no way I'm doing that anytime soon. No, this is an AM Yoga Stretching & Meditation practice with Rodney Yee. It is AWESOME. It's gentle, not easy. I can't put my forehead to my knees while lying on my back. Yet. The easy part is that it's only fifteen minutes. I can manage fifteen minutes.
Another huge motivating factor is my Apple Watch. Obviously it's a watch. It's also my alarm in the morning, no more phone buried under pillows and I can't hear it. It's also keeping track of my steps and making sure that I stand up enough. I'm quick to slip into a daze that leaves me wondering what happened to the last three hours. For the last month I've been watching little circles go round and round making sure I'm moving. At all. There's satisfaction in seeing the red and blue circles completed each day. I'll work on the green one next. I'll get there.
For now I'll keep planning walks for my days off. Even at my super slow speed, each step counts.
Happy Birthday, Eric Kripke!
O Captain! My Captain!
photo stolen with respect from Alchetron
“On April 21, 1967, the 100 millionth GM vehicle rolled off the line at the plant in Janesville – a blue two-door Caprice.
There was a big ceremony, speeches. The lieutenant governor even showed up. Three days later, another car rolled off that same line. No one gave two craps about her. But they should have, because this 1967 Chevrolet Impala would turn out to be the most important car – no, the most important object – in pretty much the whole universe.”
All the cosmic tumblers of the universe click into place...
photo stolen with respect from Samantha Smith
Wheeler Gorge: Day 2
Morning sun makes it over the ridge.
After diving into the tent last night to avoid the pounding rain I lay there listening to the staccato over my head, on the pots I left on table, and in the puddles as they formed on the ground outside around my cot. The new sleeping bag was wonderfully warm, a different experience from my old bag that had to be supplemented with blankets and hooded sweatshirts and thick socks. Nope, now I was sleeping barefoot in a tank top. I'm not one for the mummy bags. They have their purpose but that purpose is not mine. I like to be able to kick my feet and turn over. So this new sleeping bag is brilliant. It's going to take some getting used to but for a rainy night it was perfect seeing as how I had to get up three time to go pee.
That's right. Three times I had to pee. But instead of having to take off the socks to put on the flip flops, cause you can't leave the boots out in the rain and you don't want muddy boots in your bed so you leave the flip flops out in the rain, to go pee to come back and take off the flip flops and dry my feet to put back on the socks and crawl back under the blankets. Last night it was dry feet and back in the bag. Awesome. Oh, and the other best new thing: mini zipper pull light. Holy crap, these things are amazing! It lights up enough for me to find my jacket getting out of the tent and find the zipper pull to close things back up when I was snuggling into the sleeping bag again.
After the rain.
Why am I so lazy the next day? I had a decent nights sleep, stayed in bed until 7:30, and stayed in pajamas until noon. This is why I have to pay for the extra night. Getting out of camp by noon is SO HARD.
First priority is obviously coffee. It just recently became a weekend luxury. I used to get Starbucks every morning on my way to work. Between coffee and alcohol I was spending about $200 monthly. That's a lot of fucking money. Instead I'll be spending that money on a rent increase and a storage space. That's a story for another day.
Then it's making sure everything's dry and folding it up and getting organized. I'm almost there. The Thule pod is going to make a huge difference. I need to get rid of the canopy (done) and get a privacy pop up (done) for the Turbo Toilet. If it's raining I'll just have to figure it out with a tarp.
Wheeler Gorge: Day 1
Two weeks ago I went camping in the Los Padres National Forest:
Getting to Wheeler Gorge wasn't too bad, but then it never is though to get where I'm going when I use Waze. It's a little weird when I go long distance like this. I may need to start mapping the route Waze gives me in the Atlas just so I can see where I've been.
Tried out a new sunscreen this morning and it seems to have done its job since my left arm, which sat unavoidably in the sun all the way here is not bright red. Granted, its darker than my right arm but this SPF 30 came through very nicely. I get it in little bottles through an Amazon subscription so I'll also be more inclined to us it since I'll have one everywhere I might need it: backpack, 4BUS, bathroom, desk at work.
I'm in site #7. Am pretty pleased about that as it backs up to the creek and I'll be able to listen to it burbling all night. The site itself is pretty big. Certainly enough room for my little tent cot and a full size tent. This might be a nice place to bring Kyle, he and I can come up on a Friday, Diana can meet us on Saturday. I'll leave Saturday night, they can come home on Sunday. Just a thought.
The only drawbacks I have so far are:
1) Bring all of my own drinking water. Not that bad really but if it was a large group that coulee be a real pain in the ass.
2) No bathrooms. No showers. Port-a-potty only. Um, yikes! I've solved the potty problem for myself with the Turbo Toilet and a pop up private room. In the middle of the night I'm not trekking to any bathroom, but especially not one that is nothing but a hole in the ground anyway. The Turbo Toilet is fucking awesome.
Basically, for short trips and small groups Wheeler Gorge is great. Wouldn't want to stay for a week in July with ten of my closest friends. Like I have ten friends.
Of course, the moment I got here it was overcast. Not that I'm complaining. I'll take a cloudy day over direct sunshine pretty much all the time. The only bummer tonight will be that there is no moon. Even got a little bit of drizzle. Barely enough to get the able cloth damp so nothing to worry about. At first.
I tried once again to set up the damn canopy. While I'm thankful it went up easily that first weekend at at Pismo State Beach it hasn't worked for me since. I'm going to have to give it away or something. Although I did see a sedan that clearly had no room for one inside so they tied it to the roof. If I know someone's going to be coming with me I can see if there's enough room next to the cargo box to transport it safely. (Never mind, I found the canopy a good home with Becky.)
Speaking of the cargo box, last weekend I had the good people at REI install a Thule pod to 4BUS. Amazing! Love it so much and completely worth the extra $50 to have them do the installation so that I know it's done right. Thank you Mom and Dad!
But back to that drizzle.
That's all it was at first. Then, around 9:00 it started to rain more or less in earnest. It still wasn't cold. Just wet. So I pulled out this old blue umbrella that Mom bought when she visited me in Hawaii. Sadly it only sort of opened. Enough to mostly cover me and the chair sitting by the campfire. The creek rambled on joined by a chorus of frogs while the fire fought valiantly to keep burning. The petroichor filled my senses and kind of made me high. I'm sure that had nothing to do with the red wine.
The dark was really dark now. All glimmer of moon peeking through was obliterated by cloud cover. But my Bean boots keep my feet toasty even though I'm still wearing shorts from earlier.
That's right. I'm wearing shorts for the first time in probably eight years. It's beautiful what can happen when confidence grows. My legs are only one shade darker than being transparent. I'm surprised they don't glow in the dark. But I wouldn't care if they did.
I suppose much of this comes from finally getting old enough to genuinely not give a flying fuck. If that means accepting the grey hairs that have been coming in more and more, so be it. I'll take them as long as I no longer feel the need to worry about what other people think.
All the Same to Me
Fiction or real.
It’s all the same.
All the same to me.
All the Same to Me
by Jonella Allen
Fiction or real.
It’s all the same.
All the same to me.
Searching, or is it stalking,
this vicarious heart in pieces.
The love was never mine so I
cannot claim this pain as my own.
Of course, perfect love doesn’t exist.
There is no such thing as love unconditional.
There are rules, loyalties, lines you,
under no circumstance, cross.
Stalking, or is it searching,
since Tramp shared a plate of
spaghetti in an alley with Lady.
I learned from the best.
Watched how it was done.
So few can emulate
Bud & Jean.
Sixty years from Greek pins
linked with a gossamer chain
‘til death they did part.
There were others I circled
all as real to my mind
as they were fabricated.
They were searching for
Bud & Jean.
George & Gracie
Kermit & Piggy
Paul & Joanne
Johnny & June
Han & Leia
Jack & Diane
Tommy & Gina
Wesley & Buttercup
Mr. Darcy & Ms. Bennet
They circled
Bud & Jean
pair by pair
searching for,
if not forever romance,
because really who
could put up with that,
stalking forever together like
a tattooed bicep or a ring
grown over with flesh.
These pairs survive.
Not all, however idealized, do endure.
I Love Lucy, but
Desi was kind of an ass.
Pair by pair
they crumbled
and fell.
Fiction or real.
It was all the same.
All the same to me.
Photos in an album,
the same as pictures
on a magazine cover,
the same as images
projected on some screen
large or small.
All the same to me.
Luke & Laura
Frisco & Felicia
Charles & Diana
Emilio & Demi
Kiefer & Julia
Emilio & Paula
Jason & Julia
Lyle & Julia
Ben & Julia
Even Paul & Jamie
couldn’t keep their shit together.
Let’s not even go into
Hank & Helen.
Dammit people!
Scribes of the universe take note!
Hark back,
back to when it was right,
back to when it was
secure however uneasy.
Not meant to be.
Fought to be.
If you can’t love now,
right now,
lie until you can again.
Because you will again.
Love again.
I mean Harry & Sally,
they made it right?
Don’t tell me.
I probably don’t want to know.
My love
couldn’t follow
the model of
Bud & Jean.
I tried.
Or maybe I didn’t.
I thought I did.
He had other ideas.
Now I’m left with
second-hand love.
Bud & Jean
are gone.
Searching, circling, stalking,
down for the count.
There can be no expectation
for the days gone by to further shadow
events of now.
Fiction or real.
It is all the same.
All the same to me.
Vanny 2.0
My production date with Sportsmobile is April 11, 2018. That's the day they are going to start building my new home from a Sprinter van. That means I have fifteen months to get the rest of my shit in order before the build is complete sometime that July.
I've decided the van will be named Gabriel, like the archangel. It'll be either dark green or metallic brown and then I'm going to have a pair of wings, one on either side, painted in gold.
Vanny, my 1969 VW Transporter, will live forever in my heart. I loved that vehicle.
Vanny's also why I know I can do this.
photo stolen with respect from Sportsmobile
Hamilton Cast
We truly hope that this show has inspired you to uphold our American values and to work on behalf of all of us.
“We, sir — we — are the diverse America who are alarmed and anxious that your new administration will not protect us, our planet, our children, our parents, or defend us and uphold our inalienable rights. We truly hope that this show has inspired you to uphold our American values and to work on behalf of all of us."
This statement was read by Brandon Victor Dixon, the actor who played Aaron Burr, and written by the show’s creator, Lin-Manuel Miranda, its director, Thomas Kail, and the lead producer, Jeffrey Seller, with input from cast members.
video stolen with respect from the AP
photo stolen with respect from People
What Now?
"...I'm wishing Donald Trump luck and I'm going to give him a chance and we, the historically disenfranchised, demand that he give us one too." ~ Dave Chappelle
It's been almost a week since the election.
If you went out and voted your conscience, not the lesser of two evils but your conscience, I cannot find fault with that. If you genuinely felt Hillary would make a terrible president and thoughtfully turned to Jill Stein or Gary Johnson, I respect that.
However, what is beyond my grasp to comprehend is how anyone could vote his or her conscience and cast that vote for Donald Trump. His own words vilified his integrity. I'm confused, and yet...
We have elected a tangerine-tinted buffoon.
There are two things about that last sentence for which I take full responsibility:
1) I have resorted to name-calling. This is the only derogatory phrase I will use against this president. And I'm sorry I just can't help it. Have you seen Bridget Jones's Diary? Julian, the guy Bridget's mum has a fling with? Tell me there is no resemblance.
My apologies, Mr. Barlow. The only comparison I intend between you and the U.S. President-elect is that of your character, Julian (the original tangerine-tinted buffoon), in Bridget Jones's Diary from 2001.
By the way, if at any point in the future I use words like racist or misogynist to describe President-elect Trump, know that these are descriptive labels that he has earned through his own words and deeds. That's not name calling. That's calling it as I see it.
2) I said, "We have elected..." We are all responsible for this. No matter where you cast your ballot or for whom, those of us who are not satisfied with this result are ultimately to blame. We didn't do enough. We didn't believe it could happen. So we didn't pay attention to the possibility he could win.
I have friends who were very active. And I listened and agreed. But I did nothing. No, not completely true. I voted my conscience.
It wasn't enough.
So what do we do now?
After what looked like the most uncomfortable meeting ever, and I'm sure the Oval Office has seen its share, President-elect Trump came away not ready to completely gut Obamacare. So maybe, just maybe, there is a ray of light.
But we can't let that be enough, just hoping.
I've never been motivated by politics. I'll be honest; to me it looks like a giant mush pot of ego. Partisanship makes me ill. Then again, so does the thought of anyone attacking the First Amendment or women's rights. Blatant racism, misogyny, and a general disregard for human rights cannot be seen as acceptable at any level, but certainly not from the highest office in the greatest country in the world.
And this is the greatest country in the world. There is no "Make America Great Again." We're already there. This election proves it. The tangerine-tinted buffoon proves it. Proves that we all have the right to vote and that, even when exercised, things still don't always go your way. And the protests against this election result prove it. We have the right to speak our mind and spread our message.
So what is the message you will spread? President-elect Trump campaigned on fear. Set aside the hate, hate is born of fear. President-elect Trump scared people into voting for him. Make room for understanding and to be understood and that fear can be overcome. I have to believe that. Maybe I'm naive.
“Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.”
I have so much fear myself. I'm, oddly I suppose, not afraid of people. Not as such. My fear is much more abstract. It's something that clutches at me from places that have no reason. I too often silence my own voice. Not others: me.
I will, as I often do, turn to my SPN family. All roads lead to Supernatural. These are a wonderful, sensitive, goofy, intelligent, open hearted people who have a mind to make this world a better place. It can be seen over and over and over again.
Last Wednesday, the day after the election, Misha Collins posted the following video. He's near tears and brings me to tears each time I watch. His sincerity is palpable. His love for this country is genuine. His desire to make this world a better place is obvious.
In his footsteps I will humbly follow. I don't have his reach but I will do my best to "spread a message of love and kindness that is infectious."
This message can start small. Replace the general lack of civility we have for one another with a smile. Yeah, I believe that can work. I have actually flummoxed a number of people over the years with a simple smile. An honest smile that actually begins in your eyes, not a snarky smile that curls you lip, can stop someone in their tracks. Today is World Kindness Day. Give it a try.
“...I’m wishing Donald Trump luck and I’m going to give him a chance and we, the historically disenfranchised, demand that he give us one too.”